


carry to shore

by sketchnurse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchnurse/pseuds/sketchnurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trio of double drabbles for Rose, River, and the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	carry to shore

rose

There are worlds where one or both of them never existed, whole realities bereft of their presences. There are meetings that cannot be, moments when she knows too much of what he had once touched and those that he will/never will see and the endless echo of his solemn devotion. There are times when she misses him by the merest of moments, and all she has to sustain herself is the knowledge that things are wrong, flashes of sparks not meant meet and impressions of what might have been, should have been, would have been, must be again. There is a moment that stitches her to the Universe, and places she touches where all could have been undone. For she creates herself. She is woven into the fabric of his reality, and when she is no longer his, a memory that must fade, she will continue to stain him. For she has loved him. A girl became a woman became Wolf became a weapon, and her name is written on every grain of sand she has walked through. 

The girl who swallowed Time. The girl who saved the Doctor and took his life. The girl who passed through the possibilities. 

river

There are worlds they cannot visit, because she has already had her ending. There are meetings that never were the first, when all she knows is the taste of poison and lipstick and the endless echo of the lights in her being. There are times when she misses him by the merest of moments and all she has to sustain herself is a glimpse of him, just flashes and an impression of where he once had been, will be, could be again. There are moments that stitch them together, and places where a single tug of fate could pull them apart, unravel the delicate majesty of their bond eternal. For it is eternal. They are woven into the fabric of history and when they are both distant memories of the last person to see them before their ends, there will be stains remaining. For she has been worthy of him. A River became a sea became an ocean became a tempest with the power to touch eternity, and her name is known on every world she storms. 

The woman born of Time. The woman who married the Doctor. The woman who killed them both and shielded one with the other. 

the Doctor

There are worlds he never takes them to: Barcelona, Felspoon, Gallifrey. There are too short meetings, moments when he knows too much of burning and last runs and the endless echo of words he has never been able to say. There are times when chance misses him by the merest of moments, and all he has to sustain himself is a glimpse of potential, flashes of possibility and fleeting impressions of what could have been, and will not be. There are moments stitching him to the Universe, places where a single tug of his could pull it apart, unravel the fierce splendour of existence ephemeral. For it is ephemeral. He is woven into the very fabric of reality, and when he is long past and a fading memory of those he touched, he will stain just as deeply, and fade with it all. For he belongs to the Universe. A Doctor who stole a box whose box stole him who defied his kind who killed his kind is the last of them, and his name belongs to every particle of existence he leashes himself to. 

A Lord over Time. The Destroyer of Worlds. The Oncoming Storm, never and always alone.


End file.
